


To Hold Those Memories

by kkslover9



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Male Character of Color, Transfer Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkslover9/pseuds/kkslover9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well into the season, Atsuto is finally back, and Julian may or may not have been thinking of leaving."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Hold Those Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivegotthekittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotthekittens/gifts).



> I blame Noam for whatever this is. I asked for the prompt and I should have known it would get me here.

Atsuto doesn’t really like beer. He drinks Japanese beer sometimes when he’s with Shinji or Makoto; he grimaces at the bitter Asahi but they just laugh at him. But it’s impossible to live in Germany without drinking beer, so he does when he has to. It’s always bitter. He thinks of sitting in the back of the car when they won the DFB Pokal and Bene pushing the cup into his hands and laughing as he drank reluctantly. He also remembers the kisses after, tasting of desperation and beer, with the person he wants to forget but can’t. But those memories aren’t the reason he doesn’t like beer. He didn’t really like it even before those things. Maybe they just reinforced the dislike.

Julian brings beer when he comes over and wine because he knows Atsuto will complain. 

Atsuto takes the bag from him. “I’ll put this in the fridge,” he says.

Julian pulls him close by the waist and kisses him. Atsuto’s eyes close for the duration of the kiss. When he opens them, Julian is smiling at him but not the joyful smile he expects after being apart for the Christmas break. He frowns at Julian’s face, but doesn’t say anything. Julian runs a hand through Atsuto’s hair and gives him another peck on the lips.

“The fridge,” Julian says.

Atsuto nods and moves into the kitchen. He hears Julian going over to the living room as he places the beer into the fridge and sets the wine out on the counter. He takes some water and juice out just in case and carries them to the living room where Julian is lounging on the couch. Atsuto puts down the drinks and sits next to him, close so they’re touching.

Julian wraps his arms around Atsuto from the side and presses his forehead into Atsuto’s shoulder. “I missed you,” he says. “I was lonely.”

Atsuto rests his hand on Julian’s arm. He sounds tired, like the Christmas season was more stressful than relaxing and happy. Atsuto wants to reply and remind him that he was the one who told him to go when he had already been considering staying or at least coming back early. Now they were going into the training camp soon and time spent around their teammates wasn’t the same as alone time like this where there were easy touches and kisses. He settles for squeezing Julian’s hand in indication of some sort of understanding. 

They stay like that a while.

“I wanted to think,” Julian says at last.

Atsuto’s not sure what to attribute the statement to but he hopes Julian will explain when he finishes taking in and releasing a deep breath. He pulls away and Atsuto turns to look at him now. 

Julian averts his gaze downward. “I thought I could think better if you weren’t here.”

“Think about what?” Atsuto keeps looking at him in the pause before there’s an answer. 

Julian sighs and looks up again. His gaze is on Atsuto’s face but he somehow avoids eye contact. “Transferring,” he says finally, voice low almost in a whisper.

It’s not anything that surprises Atsuto. He still remembers when they sat on this couch in August as Julian forced a laugh after plans with Juventus fell through. There had been more frustration than anything else in that laugh so Atsuto knew that this would be a conversation that would happen in the future. But despite that, he had hoped that it would be next summer or over next summer and not the winter, not right now. 

“I just want—” Julian begins but he can’t seem to finish.

It doesn’t matter though, because Atsuto knows what he wants to say. He wants trophies and glory like the type he experienced in Brazil. He wants it all the time, not just on the international stage, but at a club level. Something he can’t do at Schalke. Atsuto understands. He really does. He was 21 once as well and he had dreams but now he’s 27 and not a Wunderkind who’s won the World Cup, who craves for the kind of joy again. There’s only so much Atsuto can give him: friendship, sex, love maybe. But he can’t promise him they’ll be together forever and that Julian will always, always love him. 

Atsuto calls his name and Julian looks into his eyes for the first time. There’s a nervous kind of hope there. Maybe he wants Atsuto to implore him to stay or maybe to give his blessing. Atsuto could do all of those things, but he opens his mouth and says instead, “You should go home.”

Julian’s mouth goes slack and he stares at Atsuto shocked. He begins to speak but Atsuto interrupts him.

“Please,” is all he can manage. His voice is threatening to give way and so are tears. 

Julian lingers for a moment, seemingly unsure of whether he should go or not. Atsuto clenches his hands into fists in an attempt to control his quickly deteriorating emotions. When Atsuto says nothing more, Julian stands slowly, the whole time looking at Atsuto who now has his face bent downward, chin resting against his chest. He doesn’t see Julian leave, but he hears him and he can’t hold back a sob any longer when he hears the door finally shut.

He doesn’t move even though he’s alone. All he can do is think about how ridiculous it is that he’s crying when he knows this was never forever. If it wasn’t Julian, it would have been him. He has no illusions about retiring here at Schalke, the club that has given him so much by way of both happiness and pain. Twice he’s fallen in love with talent and skill and twice talent and skill have gone to where they’re more useful.

It takes a half-an-hour for him to finally push himself up off the sofa. The juice and water are now warming on the coffee table. He takes them to the kitchen and put them into the fridge. The beer stares at him from the middle shelf. He takes one and rummages in a drawer for a bottle opener. The bitterness hits him immediately as he drinks his first sip. It’s a tasteless kind of bitterness. He doesn’t react in disgust; he takes another drink. Somehow it seems appropriate that this drink takes on another unpleasant association for him, two similar associations. Another drink, a gulp this time. He sits and contemplates as he continues to drink. He thinks about Julian and someone he shouldn’t in between sips. At last when the bottle is empty and he’s feeling sleepy from it all, he wonders whether he will repeat this again, another memory to give up to the bitterness.


End file.
